“There always was a something in his ways—”
[“So sweet—so kind,” said Ellen, with a throb,]
“His very face was what I call a snob,
And, spite of West-end coats and pantaloons,
He had a sort of air of the swell mob;
I’m sure when he has come of afternoons
To tea, I’ve often thought—I’ll watch my spoons!”
“The spoons!” cried Ellen, almost with a scream,
“Oh cruel—false as cruel—and unjust!
He that once stood so high in your esteem!”